


Fire Watching

by dionvsia



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 80's, F/M, Firewatch au, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, oh god so much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-23 09:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13187091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dionvsia/pseuds/dionvsia
Summary: Roy takes a summer job as a fire lookout in Shoshone National Park, where he meets a man named Maes Hughes and gets tied up in a mysterious plot - against him? against the forest? who knows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, it's sam dionvsia(previously rosberging) actually BACK writing fic again!!  
> My account got wiped out, so I remade with my new tumblr url as my username(edit: i'm now at pancakelesbian on tumblr, and now I've seemingly fallen down the beautiful hole of FMA!!! And I also just finished playing Firewatch, so obviously this amazing idea spawned and I just HAD to make it as angsty as possible.  
> This fic will deviate slightly from the original plot of Firewatch, to make it more compliant with who Roy and Riza are as people, and also to make it more depressing(and a more detailed backstory, because I'm back on my Royai shit that I was on as a 12 year old) so if you haven't played the game don't worry!!!  
> So I hope you guys like this fic, as always reviews and kudos make me write faster!

He met Riza in a bar in the fall of 1977. It was still hot and sticky outside and the cold basement venue was such a relief that he could have melted onto the barroom floor and laid there forever - and he’d tried to do so, despite Havoc’s efforts to keep him upright after too many beer’s - but once he’d noticed her he couldn’t stop glancing over. 

Her hair was like spun gold, tawny eyes meeting his across the bar once, and then again, before he took a deep breath and walked over, trying - and failing miserably - to turn on the signature ‘Mustang charm’ that he was so proud of sober. She’d laughed at him when he asked her major, correcting him that she was a professor, in fact - and asking him if his major was toxicology, judging by his breath. 

“I’m sorry,” She’d said, putting a hand on his arm, “That was rude. Do you want to get some food?” 

By the fifth date, Roy couldn’t stop the small voice inside his head that said  _ I’m going to marry this woman _ , walking down the university footpath covered in fresh snow. It caught him off guard at first, before the warm feeling in his chest grew at the thought. He loved her, and told her as much sitting across from her on New Year’s Eve, watching the clock turn over into 1978 in the background, feeling his cheeks heat up when she said she loved him too. 

In June, 1979 he graduated from the University of Colorado, boasting a double major in chemistry and forestry. Riza had waited outside the auditorium doors with a much too-large bouquet of flowers and a smile so wide it could’ve shattered physics. She was also waiting with what looked to be a tiny mass of fluff tucked underneath her jacket, squirming around and making cooing noises before popping it’s head out from behind her lapel. Roy definitely denied it when Riza had told everybody at the graduation dinner, but he started crying the second he held the small puppy in his arms. 

“What do you think of Black Hayate for a name?” She’d asked, running a hand along the puppy’s back while he licked at Roy’s face. 

“I think it’s adorable and you can name him whatever you want.” He’d laughed, wiping away stray tears from the sheer  _ adorableness _ of the puppy. 

Despite Black Hayate’s sudden appearance in their lives, It didn’t stop Riza from crying any less when Roy told her he was leaving in a few weeks.

“It’s only a year,” He tried to reason, clutching the letter so tight in his hand the paper would never sit flat again. The U.S. Navy insignia bold and unmistakable underneath the crinkles. “I’ll call you every day, and I’ll drive up every weekend I have free.” 

Riza sat on their bed and held onto Hayate, running his hands through his fur slowly. “I didn’t even know you’d signed up for the MGI.” She said, breathing deeply and trying to stop the tears. “Fort Carson is so far away. I could help you with your student loans, Roy. You don't need to do this."

“Two hours isn’t much, it’s barely anything. I’d commute everyday if I was able to.” He sat down beside her, wiping away tears and pulling her into a hug. "I'm already signed up, I signed up when I applied to school. I can't just tell them never mind." 

“What if they send you somewhere? What if you end up in- in whatever it’s called. Somewhere b-bad?” Riza stutters out, trying to keep her train of thought going. 

She has trouble sometimes, forcing out words when she’s emotional - mostly names, locations - and Roy hates listening to it, hates when she’s upset. 

“They can’t send me anywhere, Riza. Please stop crying, please.” 

In the end, Riza does stop crying. After that, she’s like a stone, trying her best to be emotionless and indifferent to the situation. 

Roy can tell she’s angry, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.

So he doesn’t do anything.

 

  
  
  


_ 1985 _

 

The drive up to Yellowstone feels weird, in a way that Roy doesn’t really know how to describe. Not exactly depressing, but the heavy weight in his chest becomes heavier and heavier the further away from Colorado he goes. It feels almost like running away. 

Other than his own emotional turmoil, the drive is pretty boring, and he gets to the edge of Shoshone just after lunch, shoving the rest of his things into his bag before heading out down the trail.

It should take his breath away -  he’d never been to Wyoming before. He thinks it looks a bit more like California where he grew up, more Yosemite than Aspen. So in theory he should find it beautiful, but Shoshone passed him by while he hiked, leaving some kind of imprint but not enough for him to stop and admire the view. He was tired, and he really just wanted to get to Two Forks so he could sleep. 

Sleeping on the ground that evening was unpleasant, but he knew he’d have to camp halfway through anyway. The morning after was colder than he expected, and it was difficult to get his joints to cooperate and stop cracking while he walked. He spends the whole day hiking - getting the shit scared out of him by a deer around lunch, which wasn’t fun - and manages to reach the lookout tower a few hours after sundown.

The old wooden structure was quaint, paint starting to fade from the years but otherwise in good shape. There were even books left over from whoever had the job before him. All-in-all, he couldn’t complain. This was where he was living for the next four months, even if he didn’t like it he would have to deal with it anyway. So Roy did what any normal human would do after an 8 hour drive followed by a 10 mile hike - he dropped his bag on the floor and collapsed into the unmade cabin bed. 

He was almost out when the radio beside him made an awful squelching noise, followed by a nasally low voice and a short laugh. 

“It’s Roy, right?” The voice asked, sounding tinny and far away over the walkie-talkie. 

Roy reached up and took the radio without moving from the bed, merely turning his head so he could drawl into the speaker. “That’s the name. Who's this?”

“Maes Hughes, chief lookout. Technically your new boss.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what the man on the phone said.” 

“Glad your versed on your coworkers. Sooo… What’s wrong with you?” 

Roy squeezes his eyes shut and turns over so his weight is on his forearm, glancing out the window towards the light of the nearest tower. “I’m tired, that’s what wrong with me.”

“No, I mean what’s your problem? Your emotional trauma that led you into the middle of the woods to do a shitty job like this.” 

“Excuse me?”  _ What kind of question is that? _

“Well,” Maes started, “Everyone takes this job to get away from something. I wanna know what you’re running away from.” 

Roy stopped for a second, no idea how to reply. Who the hell asks something like that? Jesus. “Listen, I just hiked for two days straight to get out here, can we leave the personality poking for tomorrow?” 

A few seconds pass without a reply, and Roy lets himself fall back onto his side, letting the radio sit loosely in his palm before Maes speaks again. 

“Alright, well can you guess what’s wrong with me?” 

“Can I  _ please _ go to sleep afterwards?” 

“Sure thing, buddy.” 

He draws in a breath, trying to will his sleep deprived mind into making something up. “Okay, so, you’re up here because your girlfriend just broke up with you and you did nothing but drink so your landlord kicked you out. There.” 

“That’s not very creative, I’m a bit offended you’re calling me an alcoholic right off the bat.” 

Roy, despite himself, grinned. “Oh, so that’s not what this is? You’re up there completely sober just grilling me about my personal problems for no reason?” 

“Eh, I’ll let your figure that one out.”

“Could I please go to sleep now?” 

“Nope, now it's my turn.” Maes laughs, “I say you're recently divorced, maybe running away from your hysterical ex-wife who won't leave you alone. The woods are always a good place to hide from psycho exes.” 

“Very funny.” He deadpans.

“So am I right?” 

“Goodnight, Maes.”

He’s already unconscious before his head hits the pillow.

The walkie-talkie crackling to life is what initially wakes him up the next morning, eyes cracking open against the harsh light as he tried focusing on the clock across the room. 

“Good morning,” The voice on the other end of the radio announced, sounding way too chipper for what Roy assumed was early. “Or should I say afternoon,” Shit. “Tough start.”

He pulled himself out of bed and walked across the room, leaning against the workbench and picking up the radio. “Sorry,” He said, “It was a long hike.” 

“Nah, it takes a lot out of all of us. Gotta say though, fourteen hours is pretty impressive.”

_ Shit. _ Had it really been that long? 

“Guess that good first impression is out the door, then.” 

Maes laugh turns into a cough halfway through, and the radio crackles against the noise. “I'll let you make up for it.” 

Roy sighed and sat the radio back on the bench, moving back towards his bunk and pulling clean clothes from his bag. He felt gross, falling asleep in hiking clothes that still had mud and grass stains smeared all over them - at least he hadn't actually put the sheets on the matters yet, just passed out on the bare surface. 

He thought he could hear something popping in the background before Maes’ voice filled the room again. 

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me, do you see those too?” 

Roy spun around towards the window and looked out, anticipating a fire but seeing… fireworks? The faint crackling sparkle barely visible against the dimming sky.

He picked up the radio. “Yeah I see them.” 

“You need to get down there. Jesus - if those start a fucking fire I'm going to kill them myself.”

“Is that my job?” 

Maes made a noise in the back of his throat, “Your job is whatever I say it is, in this case preventing some stupid kids setting the forest on fire.”

“Should I… y’know, threaten them and stuff? throw a few punches if they get an attitude?” Roy joked, pulling his bag over his shoulder and heading down the stairs. 

“No! I mean, that'd be hilarious but you might get us sued. Just take their shit and yell at them, maybe tell them to leave the park.” Maes says, "Looks like they're near Jonesy Lake."

“Right.” Roy clipped the walkie talkie onto the strap of his bag and started down the trail, taking in the views for the first time. 

It was beautiful, to put it briefly. The trees were colourful in their million shades of green and the cliff faces were sun-bleached white all around. His heart sank a bit when he thought about how much Riza would have liked it here, how she would've dragged him through all the trails and onto the cliffs. 

He can hear her voice inside his head, the shutter of her old camera taking snapshots of everything.  _ “I should've brought more film! Should I make copies and send them to your aunt?”  _

Roy loses himself in a bit of a trance thinking about it - how her hair would look in the sunlight - he almost misses Maes shouting over the radio.

“Did you hear me?! Turn your fucking radio back on Mustang.” 

He fumbles with the button for a second, “Sorry, what was that?” 

“I said, you need to grab a rope from the supply box to get down the cliffs. The codes 1-2-3-4, if you can handle that.” 

“Very secure.” He ignores the last part, avoiding an argument over the radio with his new boss. 

The supply box does indeed unlock when he clicks the code in, latches creaking with rust. There’s a few things inside - a couple of books, some snack bars, some note left by who he assumes is another lookout - he grabs the old rope and locks it back up. 

The rope doesn't exactly look like the newest thing, but he won't complain. “Got it.” 

A few more minutes walking brings him out onto a plateau, open towards the east part of Shoshone and wide enough he can see for miles. Roy let's himself stop a minute and take it in, watching the clouds float over the horizon against the mountains. 

“The view’s incredible out here,” He says into the radio. 

“I know,” Maes has a tinge of excitement in his voice. “You should see what I see from up here, there isn't a better view through the whole park then from my front window - but I guess that's sort of the point, the whole ‘firewatching' job and all.” 

Roy almost loses his balance along a foot bridge, toe sticking against a screw and sending him stumbling onto the next rock. “Smooth move, Mustang,” He mumbled to himself, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes and brushing away sleep.

“Maybe I'll let you come up and see it at the end of the summer.” 

“Yeah, that'd be nice - Oh I’m at the climbing spot.” 

It's just a concrete block with climbing ropes and ties wrapped around it, a small plaque saying the trails name. It reminds him a bit of hiking as a kid, always passing the rappellers and annoying his aunt asking if he could try. The drop is steep as hell, though. Steep enough that the pebbles he kicks skitter down the edge and bring down more with them, and hit the ground below with a clatter.

“Be careful,”

It's not difficult climbing down - despite being out of shape, Roy  _ had _ been in the military a fair amount of time, and his stamina would probably never return to normal levels - but as soon as he let himself  _ think _ it felt easy, his vision blurred and the next thing he knew, Roy’s head connected with the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yikes i meant to post this chapter like... four days ago?? but I had to rewrite it because I really hated the way I wrote Riza. After rewriting I had to remind myself that obviously she's going to be a little bit less rigid and herself because of reasons(if you played you know why lol). So if any of you are getting that vibe too, then rest assured it's for a reason! She isn't just crying all the time for no reason!  
> This chapter is also unbeta'd because I wanted to post it as soon as I finished writing it, so any mistakes are my own and I apologize!

_ August 1979 _

 

It’s difficult to commute to Boulder from Fort Carson, never mind impossible during basic training. There’s a solid two months where Roy just isn’t allowed to leave, is given limited time on the phone and is berated if he has to argue with Riza over the telephone.

“Hayate misses you,” She’d say, trying to lead away from her own emotions. “He cries all the time because he thinks you’re coming home in the evenings.”

Roy sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s been over a month, I bet he forgets who I even am.”

“He cries _all_ night, Roy. He just wants you to come home.”

“Riza, you know I can’t come home for another few weeks. I explained it to you.”

“Hayate doesn’t know that.” Her tone was woozy, like she’d been drinking. Roy tries not to get angry about that.

“Hayate doesn’t know anything, he’s a dog.”

“Fuck you,” Riza slurs, dropping the phone for a second before grabbing it again. “I don’t know why I don’t break up with you, Rebecca keeps telling me I should.”

Roy lets himself slide down the wall until he’s sitting on the ground beside the payphone, listening to the beep telling him to put more money into the slot. He debates not doing it and just letting the phone hang up.

“Why don’t you just go to bed, Riza.”

“Fine,” She says, and hangs up the phone before Roy’s money runs out, the clack of the receiver loud against his ear.

He sighed again before standing up, piling the small lump of coins he’d stacked on top of the phone back into the pocket of his uniform pants. Everything was getting complicated now. Roy definitely wasn’t enjoying basic training, if the black eye and bruised ribs had anything to say about it.

Obviously he hadn’t told Riza about the fight, and it gnawed at him to keep things from her. All she would do is freak out on him if he told her, reverting back into the loving caring girlfriend he’d grown close to - but it almost felt fake to have that, for her to stop being so angry at him for a few minutes to be concerned.  She’d want to come down and make sure he was okay.

So he was doing the only thing Roy Mustang knew how to do, isolate himself against the only person who cares about him. It wasn’t like she wasn’t doing the same thing, voicing her emotions through Hayate instead of outright telling him that she was crying a lot.

He really wished she wouldn’t cry so much, it wasn’t like her. She had been increasingly teary the past few months after he graduated - even going as far as to cry when she burned a piece of toast one afternoon. It wasn’t normal, and Roy didn’t know what to do about it.

So once again, he did nothing at all.

  


 

Roy tries his best not to cry out when he hits the ground, pain lacing through his spine as he lands. He can feel the backs of his arms digging into sharp rocks underneath him and curses - what a way to start his new job.

Nothing _feels_ broken - except for the rope dangling at least 10 feet above him, that's definitely broken - and Roy feels like the luckiest man in the unluckiest situation. At least he wasn't that far from Jonesy Lake.

“You still alive down there?”

Roy scowls and reaches over for his radio, still clipped onto the backpack that'd fallen off when he hit the dirt.

“Yeah, uh. The rope broke while I was on my way down.” He sits up and brushes the rocks from his arms, cringing at the blood smearing across his skin.

“Fuck, are you alright?”

“Me, yes. My back, up for debate.”

Standing up is a journey in of itself, the bones along his tailbone snapping and cracking while he moved. It wasn't _too_ bad, but after the hike yesterday Roy was praying to some god to send him a hot water bottle.

“Jeez, how much do you weigh? Didn't think the rope was that old.”

“I can guarantee that rope was older than I am.”

“Not doing yourself any favours today, Mustang.” Maes laughed.

Roy was this close to smashing the radio as he kept on down the trail, Maes’ jokes echoing down the canyon. He didn't care much for the scenery anymore - not that it wasn't beautiful as always, cliffs petering off into forest - Roy just wanted to find the stupid kids playing with fireworks and kick their asses.

“You’ll have to take the northern trail to get back to Two Forks, if you broke the rope down the shale slide.” Maes adds.

“Great,”

There was an outcropping of rock ahead, coupled by a small plume of unattended smoke coming from a campfire. There were also beer cans, _everywhere._ It wasn't even good stuff - Roy scoffed at the labels, even he’d had better taste when he was 20. But then again, he caught sight of a bottle of whiskey that looked pretty expensive.

“Might as well confiscate this,” He mumbled to himself, “Alcohol and fire don't mix well.”

The entire area was a mess, coolers thrown around, a couple of tents set up - plus a pile of conveniently left fireworks sitting on one of the rocks.

He reached for the radio, “Hey Hughes, I think I found out pyromaniacs camp. These kids better clean this shit up cause it isn't my job.”

“Good!” Maes shouted, “Now go find them and tell them to get the fuck out of my park.”

Roy kicks out the smouldering fire quick before moving on, reaching up and running his hand along the overhanging rock as he passes underneath it. It’s a pretty spot, he’d probably come pick up a few of the cans once the stupid kids leave.

“Can you see them?” Maes asks.

“No, they must be down at the lake.”

Walking closer to the lake, Roy thinks he can hear some music over a radio, and definitely doesn’t miss the clothes strewn around the ground as he gets further down the trail. A bra there, some pants here, he cringes the more he finds.

“I think they may be… naked,” He says, slowing his footsteps. “I found a bra.”

“Are you sure you can stay professional?” Maes laughs.

A few more steps, “And the matching panties.”

“Wait, there’s what?”

Roy felt his face heat up. “Don't make me say it again.”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Leave me alone.”

“How old are you anyway, I forgot to ask.”

He pushes a branch out of the way and gets closer to the water, the shore visible from where he’s standing along with a radio and a few more beer cans. “I’m thirty-six, if it matters. How old are you?”

“Aha, that’s classified, Mustang. Can you see them?”

“No, but…” He kicks at the ground a bit, feeling the heat on his cheeks get hotter. “There’s another set of underwear to report.”

“Hah, so you got two naked girls out there? Sure you can handle that?”

“Shut up, Hughes.” He pauses a second. “God, I don’t want to go down there.”

“Suck it up, it’s your job.”  
“It actually isn’t, technically. I have the fireworks.”

“C’mon, roy. I saw another one like, a minute ago. Just go yell at them and shit, please?”

He sighs again, running a hand down his face. “FIne.”

Roy steps out into the clearing, ready to shield his eyes and pretend to be professional. He’s happy to find nobody in the immediate area, just the radio he saw earlier and a few _hundred_ more beer cans - because teenagers are awful, apparently.

He picks the radio up and fidgets with it absentmindedly, looking around the area to find who the hell made the mess, before he hears someone yelling.

“Put my fucking radio down, you creep!”

It takes him a minute to figure out that the two girls were out on the small island in the middle of the lake, thankfully far enough away that he can’t see anything.

“I work for the park, you can’t be setting off fireworks, dumbass!” He yells back, kind of angry he has to yell across a lake. He was hoping it was some teenage boys or something, someone he might actually get to punch. Roy’d been antsy the last hour, the fall put his shitty mood onto the edge.

“Leave us alone!” He can hear one of them say quieter: “It’s some creepy old guy, he probably stole my underwear.”

Roy rolled his eyes and sighed, taking the radio into his other hand. “Fine, you know what? Pick up your fucking garbage!” He throws the radio into the water, satisfied when the shitty pop music drowns out.

One of the girls screams again but he ignores it, turning down the other trail and leaving. At least there was a nice breeze coming off the water, he’d have to stop further down and wash his hair before he left the area - the grease was finally starting to bother him, mixed with the grime and dirt from falling.

“Everything alright down there?” Maes voice comes over the radio after a few more minutes, just as Roy’s stopping at the shore a few klicks down the trail.

“Yeah, I didn’t murder anybody.”

“Wow, I’m proud of you.”

Roy feels the corner of his mouth turn up _just_ slightly. “Shut up, Hughes.”

 

 

He doesn’t hear from Maes again until later in the evening, when he’s almost back to Two Forks. It’d taken him a few hours to get around the northern trail, and his knees definitely weren’t doing him any favours.

“Hey, uh. Are you there, Roy?”

“Yeah,” Roy takes the walkie talkie off his backpack clip so he can hold it. “What’s up?”

Maes pauses for a minute, before talking again. “About last night - I just wanted to, uh. I wanted to apologize.” Another pause. “I was kind of… drunk. So, I’m sorry. For being weird. That’s not how I normally am.”

Roy laughs, despite himself. He can’t exactly judge, he stole a bottle of whiskey from those teenagers. And he definitely had his fair share of drinking on the job. Even in the military once, when Havoc had snuck in a bottle of schnapps after one of their weapons exams - which happened to be right before their _surprise_ second weapons exam that was supposed to be the following day. That’d gotten his ass kicked pretty bad.

“It’s - it’s fine, Maes. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, it was really unprofessional. I’m just kind of a dick, I’m sorry for harassing you like that. It isn’t my business why you’re here.”

 _No, it isn’t any of your business_ , Roy thinks. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” He says instead.

He doesn’t want to think about the reason he’s here. That was the whole point of coming here, to _not_ talk about it. Not about Riza, not about what happened to her, and definitely not why he had just up and left. Roy was content keeping those things to himself.

A little further up the trail Roy almost gets blinded by some asshole with a flashlight, shining it directly into his eyes for a few seconds before running off up the trail ahead of him.

“Jesus,” He winces, rubbing the palms of his hands against his eyes, seeing stars behind them.

“Some creepy guy just shined his flashlight in my eyes,” He said into the radio, rubbing at his eyes again a second before climbing up the rocks on the trail.

“Oh no,I forgot to tell you about something weird around here.”  
“What?”

“It’s… outside!” Maes laughs, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“Fuck off.”

Maes just laughs again, “The whole place, and people just go as they please!”

“I get it, Hughes.” Roy rolls his eyes, pulling himself up onto the next section of trail and coughing. The hiking was bugging his lungs after the fall, he hoped he didn’t have a broken rib that he just couldn’t feel.

“Better watch out, rogue campers galore.”

Roy ignored him.


End file.
